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HOW TO WRITE 
A PHOTOPLAY 



BY 



HERBERT CA5E HOAGLAND 

OF PATHE FRERES 




MAGAZINE MAKER PUBLISHING COMPANY 
241 FOURTH AVENUE NEW YORK CITY 



COPYRIGHT, 1912, 
HOMER CROY 



TRANSFI 
OOPYHI 

3 MH 



CHAPTERS 

PAGE 

How Photoplays are Produced 5 

The Bare Idea 13 

What Not to Do 27 

Photoplays that Won't be Accepted. 39 

Hints 44 

Model Scenario 47 

Where to Sell 63 

Note 77 

Always Remember 78 



CHAPTER I 

<£ 
How Photoplays are Produced 

SOME sixteen or seventeen years 
ago, the motion picture, follow- 
ing close upon the heels of the 
phonograph, startled the world with 
animated photographs. At the begin- 
ning the films were about eighty feet 
long, flickered until they all but 
jumped off the screen and incidentally 
caught the popular fancy with a 
"strangle hold" which grows tighter 
every year. 

In the old days the cinematographer 
produced a picture whenever he had 
the ideas and, selling as many prints 
as possible, cast about for weeks look- 
ing for more ideas. To-day the motion 
picture makers produce in the United 
States alone 120 pictures every week. 
This means 6,240 pictures a year and 
every picture is a different story in 
picture form. Of course, the stories 
are not all fiction; as scientific films 
of educational value are rapidly com- 



ing into demand. But fully four-fifths 
of all the pictures produced are based 
on fiction. These stories are called 
"scenarios." 

To write a photoplay requires no 
skill as a writer, but it does require 
a "constructionist." It requires the 
ability to grasp an idea and graft 
(please use in the botanical sense) a 
series of causes on the front end of 
it and a series of consequences on the 
other end. An idea so grafted will 
surely bear fruit; and to learn the art 
of this sort of mental horticulture it 
is necessary first to understand, in a 
general way, how motion pictures are 
made and what is done in the studio, 
in the field and in the factory. Let 
us learn something of these things and 
begin at the beginning — in the office 
of the Scenario Editor. 

This man, who will return your 
scenario if it is incapable of bearing 
fruit or prune it if that is all it needs, 
is a combination city editor, dramatic 
critic, poet, make-up editor, proof 
reader, rewrite man, stage manager, 
human encyclopedia and statue of 
patience, and usually has dyspepsia 



and is entitled to your consideration. 
He receives the manuscripts and 
must read them all. He must be 
able to grasp the dramatic possi- 
bilities of a scenario, see its weak- 
nesses, know how to strengthen it, 
must be able to recognize a story lifted 
bodily or in part from some other 
photoplay, magazine, play or novel 
and must have the rare faculty of be- 
ing just as keen and unbiased at the 
end of a long day as he is in the morn- 
ing. Because of the amount of the 
Editor's work, all scenarios should be 
typewritten on one side of the paper 
only, double spaced and sent in flat — 
not rolled or folded. For the same 
reason the scenario proper should be 
preceded by a very short, very clear 
synopsis of the entire story. 

Presuming the scenario passes this 
Cerebus at the entrance of the studio, 
it goes next to the Chief Producer who 
rereads it and with a blue pencil as a 
scalpel cuts out the exterior growth 
which may have been overlooked by 
our Cerebus. Having done this, it is 
passed on to the Producer. 

The Producer is to a motion picture 



studio what a stage manager is to a 
theatrical production. They run to 
specialties. One is a good comedy 
man, another does his best work in 
heavy dramatic pieces, still another 
produces nothing but military pictures, 
and so on. The Producer, having read 
the scenario, chooses for the char- 
acters players who can best portray 
the people in the play. Then he 
arranges the scenes in the order in 
which he wishes them photographed 
which, by the way, is very different 
from the sequence in which they ap- 
pear on the screen. For example: 
suppose we have a story of a mother 
forgetting to take her baby out of the 
department store check-room and go- 
ing for it the next day; we would have 
the scenes on the screen arranged as 
follows : 

1. Interior of House — Mother takes baby, 
exits. 

2. Exterior of House — Mother appears 
carrling baby and exits. 

3. Street Scene — Mother passes with baby 
— Baby in tears. 

4. Exterior of Store — Mother appears and 
enters Store. 

5. Check-room — Mother checks baby. 

8 



6. Mother shopping. 

7. Same as 3. Mother going opposite 
direction without baby. 

8. Same as 2. Mother enters. 

9. Same as 1. Mothers enters, discovers 
loss, sees it is too late to get baby, so 
sits down to supper with husband. 

Subtitle "Next Morning" 
10, 11, 12 same as 1, 2 and 3. Mother on 

gallop. 
13, 14 same as 4 and 5. Mother gets child — 
exits happy. 

Not much of a story, but it serves 
the purpose! The Producer will take 
scenes 1, 9 and 10 in the studio in rapid 
succession. Numbers 5 and 14 will 
follow, then 6, all in the studio. Then 
in the street he will produce the other 
scenes in the following order: 2, 8, 11, 
3, 7, 12, 4, and 13, and the picture is 
complete in so far as the Producer is 
concerned. 

Each scene is a separate little play 
in which the players must do what the 
Producer directs in so far as they are 
able. One or two rehearsals of five 
minutes each for simple scenes and 
the picture is taken. In big scenes, 
however, two or three days are some- 
times consumed in drilling the players 
in their various parts, the Producer 

9 



often playing each part in turn to 
show just what he desires. 

The camera man is the Producer's 
spectacles. He aids the latter in select- 
ing locations for outdoor scenes and 
he must be expert in the selection of 
locations where the light is right for 
photographic purposes. He must be 
calm no matter what happens and 
everlastingly on the job, for if by any 
chance some accident happens which, 
though deplorable, will add to the 
realism, he must constantly turn his 
camera crank at an unvarying speed 
and make photos on the speeding film 
at the rate of sixteen a second. Re- 
cently when an explosion was to form 
part of a picture and the charge went 
off prematurely, injuring six men, did 
the camera man rush in with any 
"first aid?" Not he! When the smoke 
cleared he was discovered nonchal- 
antly grinding out pictures of the 
catastrophe which later was to thrill 
millions of picture fans by its realism. 
That's what constitutes a good photog- 
rapher. 

After the actual taking of the pic- 
tures the undeveloped film is sent to 

10 



the factory where it is developed, 
dried, and wound in a roll. This is 
the negative. After this it is run 
through a "printing machine" with 
another film, the latter unexposed. 
The printing machine photographs 
the pictures on the new film which in 
turn is developed and dried and a 
positive is the result. This positive 
is the film used in the theatres. 

Each scene is developed and printed 
separately and the positives are all 
joined afterwards in their proper 
order with title and subtitles in proper 
place, and there is nothing left for the 
manufacturer to do but to collect his 
profits. 

Most manufacturers classify all their 
films under the following heads: 

Trick, 

Farce, 

Comedy, 

Dramatic Comedy, 

Dramatic, 

Tragic, 

Scenic, 

Industrial, 

Military, 

Historical, 

11 



Educational, 

Biblical, 

Micro-Cinematographic. 
Trick films are those in which the 
supernatural seems to happen and is 
done by proper manipulation of the 
camera. The next five need no ex- 
planation. Scenics are travelogues; 
Military explains itself; Historical 
means a film, the story of which is 
based on some fact in the published 
history of the world; Educational are 
those teaching Botany, Minerology, 
Zoology, and all the other 'ologies; 
Biblical of course means Bible Stories 
and Micro-Cinematographic refers to 
the highest form of motion picture — 
the examination of bacilli of various 
diseases. 

In all these the only classifications 
in which the reader need be particu- 
larly interested are Farce, Comedy, 
Dramatic Comedy, Dramatic, Tragic, 
Military and Historical. Of these the 
tragic is the least desired by the film 
people, while comedy is the most 
sought after and the most difficult to 
get. In consequence a good comedy 
commands the highest price. 

12 



CHAPTER II 

The Bare Idea 

THE first essential to a scenario is 
an idea — a peg on which to hang 
the story. Ideas for photoplays 
are not difficult for an alert brain to 
evolve. Life — everyday life — as you 
see it about you is full of good ideas 
for films and with practice one can 
soon learn to grasp the central thought 
in an incident, strip it of its common- 
places and with this as a nucleus build 
a story around it. The idea is the 
main point in a motion picture and in 
all that goes before or follows it should 
never be lost sight of by the scenario 
writer. 

Given the idea or feature of the 
story, the next step is to reason the 
possible or better still the probable 
causes which lead up in steps or scenes 
to this feature and the results which 
would logically* follow such an inci- 
dent as the creator of the story may 
have in mind. Every scene should 

13 



lead into the next scene without a 
break in the story being developed and 
subtitles should only be used when it 
is impossible to explain the action or 
the lapse of time any other way or to 
divide two scenes of a widely diversi- 
fied nature, thus breaking the mental 
leap of the spectator into two jumps. 
The perfect motion picture has no sub- 
titles and needs none. 

Whenever possible keep the spec- 
tator in suspense as to the climax, the 
unravelling, as long as possible. If 
the denouement can be withheld 
until the last scene, so much the better. 
Suspense is a delightful sensation 
though we all beg not to be kept in it. 

Remember that very few stories are 
of great interest without the rustle of 
a skirt. 

Don't lose sight of the fact that all 
the world's a stage and that you can 
find among your acquaintances nearly 
every character you need for any 
story: the hard father, the loving 
mother, the sweet sister, the sporty 
brother, the irate old maid aunt, the 
faithful lover, the infamous scoundrel, 
the heartless village belle, the heroic 

14 



friend, the shrinking bride, the crusty 
uncle, the saintly preacher, the hypo- 
critical elder of the church, the patient 
invalid, the sleek banker, the unscru- 
pulous lawyer, the charming adven- 
turess and the innocent bystander. 
By changing the adjectives around, 
you have about three hundred and 
twenty-four characters, some or all of 
whom you surely know, and one could 
continue the list ad infinitum. Every 
one of the three hundred and twenty- 
four contains the possibilities of a 
story. 

Having found the idea then and 
evolved a story from it and cast your 
characters mentally, the next step is 
to write it. Begin your scenario with 
the title, followed by the word of ex- 
planation as to the place and time. 
Below this, list the characters neces- 
sary for the action of the story, 
their relationship, if any, and their 
characteristics thus: 

Title. How the Book was Written 

A true story of New York — Time, 1912 
Characters : 

15 



Tom Smith, the Author, lean, hungry 
individual, much in need of cash, 
but of heroic and impulsive nature. 

John Jeffries, the publisher, sleek, fat, 
sceptical and wealthy, but niggardly. 

Bill Sayers, the Compositor, a profane 
man who constantly chews tobacco 
and criticises the author. 

Mrs. Smith, the Author's wife, who 
needs a new coat and urges him to 
greater efforts. 

Men, Women and Children who buy 
books and write photoplays living 
happily ever after on their incomes. 

This enables the producer to select 
his players for the parts without hav- 
ing to search for each one in the body 
of the scenario. 

Follow the list of characters with 
a short but very clear synopsis of the 
entire play, disregarding scenes alto- 
gether, as for example: 

"A wealthy publisher visits poverty 
stricken writer and, taking advantage 
of this circumstance, induces him to 
write a book entitled, "How to Write a 

16 



Photoplay." Writer agrees, goes home 
breaks news to wife who, weeping, 
urges him to keep his word though 
difficult. Author gets writer's cramp 
and wife completes work. Deception 
is discovered by publisher who re- 
fuses to pay and writer and wife drop 
dead from shock. Publisher gloats 
over his ruin." 

The value of the short synopsis lies 
in the fact that the Scenario Editor 
who is familiar with the class of pic- 
ture desired by the company in whose 
employ he is can thus sidestep a poor 
story or give particularly careful at- 
tention to one whose synopsis sounds 
good. 

Having done this we now come to 
the scenario proper which is in reality 
the synopsis rewritten in detail and 
divided into scenes. 

The scenario writer must bear in 
mind that the first thing to do is to 
introduce his characters on the screen 
in a way that almost immediately de- 
termines their position in, and rela- 
tionship to, the story. Many photo- 
plays are failures because a proper 
beginning has not been arranged. 

17 



If, for example, the scene opens in 
a young woman's home and her lover 
is coming to see her, the fact that he 
is her lover and not her brother or 
husband should be clearly shown in 
the action, and the action of the play 
is the thing to write. 

Bear in mind that the players have 
no "lines" to sustain their parts, but 
must depend entirely upon gesture, 
expression and grouping to convey 
their meaning. 

In the situation suggested above the 
young woman, Mary, is seated in the 
living room attempting to read, near 
her is an elderly man reading also. 
Mary doesn't read, however, the book 
lies open on her lap, her eyes are fixed 
on vacancy and a smile hovers on her 
lips. Immediately the spectator gets 
the hunch that she is in love. Without 
the smile she may merely be planning 
how to pay the grocer's bill or she may 
be contemplating suicide, but the 
sweet ghost of a smile — a loving ex- 
pression tells the story. Into the room 
bounds a youth — if the girl turns in- 
stantly and throws her arms about his 
neck it's probably her brother, but if 

18 



she recognizes his footstep, clasps her 
hands quickly, raises them to her 
cheek and joy flashes from her eyes 
and smiling lips and then she turns 
and puts her arms about him it surely 
is her sweetheart and nobody else. 
This, if they are engaged. If she loves 
him but is not engaged and doesn't 
know whether he loves her or not she 
does all the above except turning with 
her arms outstretched. She turns, 
but it is to shake hands. If they know 
each other's love and papa in the arm 
chair doesn't there is a surreptitious 
kiss. If papa does know all about it 
he arises, smiles, slaps the youth on 
the back and makes him feel at home. 

These are merely examples of the 
shades of meaning which may be 
shown clearly and without difficulty. 
All that a scenario writer is supposed 
to write in the actions of the players in 
detail — this action is called the "busi- 
ness." 

With such an introduction the 
spectator feels instantly that he has 
been let in on the ground floor and the 
figures on the screen are already his 
old friends. 

19 



Keep your first characters on the 
screen, even though in different scenes, 
long enough to get everyone familiar 
with them and their environment in 
the story before introducing a new and 
unexpected phase in the tale. To fail 
in this is faulty construction. 

Recently I saw a picture with such 
a fault. The opening scene showed 
a man released from prison and met 
at the prison gate by his daughter. 
This scene was followed by a subtitle 
reading: "A Year Later — John Morgan 
is Dying," and then a scene depicting 
an elderly man on his deathbed. It 
took several moments for those in the 
theatre to become mentally adjusted 
to the fact that this was not the same 
man who was released from prison a 
year before but a new character in 
the play. How much better it would 
have been if the released prisoner had 
been shown reaching his home with 
his daughter, then a subtitle as fol- 
lows: "A Year later — Bill Snyder re- 
ceives word that his old friend Mor- 
gan is dying." Follow this with a 
scene of the same room, though more 
prosperous in appearance. Bill Sny- 

20 



der receives a letter asking him to call 
on Morgan who is dying. Snyder 
exits; street scene follows; exterior of 
house follows this; Snyder in both 
scenes, entering house in latter, then 
Morgan's sick-room. This really hap- 
pened in the story, but not in the 
order suggested above. In the 
amended arrangement the spectator, 
who is not yet interested in Morgan 
but in Snyder, is led by easy stages 
from Snyder to Morgan and the inter- 
est is transferred, or rather divided. 
Let one scene lead into the next scene 
wherever possible. Motion picture 
theatre goers don't yearn for mental 
gymnastics and shouldn't be kept 
guessing as to who the characters are 
or why they are in the story at all. 
Point one, then, is to arrange the 
entrance of your characters into the 
plot in a way which informs the spec- 
tator of his or her personality and its 
relation to others, and point two is to 
keep your scenes in a sequence easily 
followed by the onlooker. 

Inconsistency is a fatal error 
in photoplay writing. The author is 
seldom to blame for inconsistencies in 

21 



costuming because few writers de- 
scribe in detail the dress and make up 
of the people of the play, but an author 
of a scenario would do well to add 
such a detail to his list of characters. 
A beautiful film was utterly spoiled 
for many, not long ago, because the 
heroine, a girl reared in poverty and 
rags, wore throughout the play beau- 
tiful French heeled slippers which 
must have cost at least five dollars and 
which would not have been worn by 
this girl even if they were given to 
her. This mistake was made by a 
producer usually very keen on minute 
details of dress and stage setting. 
Inconsistencies in the scenario itself, 
however, bring the manuscript home 
to roost and it is too bad that this is 
so, for the exercise of a little care will 
result in the avoiding such a flagrant 
mistake. 

It is in the little things that this sort 
of error is likely to occur. For ex- 
ample: in a Civil War story the sce- 
nario called for a field hospital with 
the Red Cross flag flying from a staff. 
Well, the Red Cross wasn't organized 
until the closing year of the war and 

22 



then it was done in Switzerland and 
the Southerners and Yankees never 
saw this emblem of mercy during the 
whole four years of strife. 

Another story of the same period 
required that an officer in Confederate 
uniform be informed by a courier, 
also in Confederate togs, that war had 
been declared between the North and 
South. But there was no gray uniform 
of the Confederacy before the C. S. A. 
was formed! Still another film story 
showed a southern mansion at the 
close of the war. All the negroes but 
one had fled long ago. Enters a Union 
officer and reads the Emancipation 
Proclamation and with tears of sorrow 
streaming down his face the last faith- 
ful servitor left his weeping mistress 
and went north. Why did he weep, or 
why did he not stay. He wasn't com- 
pelled to leave his mistress! She 
simply couldn't compel him to remain 
— and if he wished to stay so badly 
that he wept at parting, why did he go 
at all. The story required that we get 
the negro away for a few years and 
that method was good enough in the 
mind of the scenario writer. 

23 



Another sort of inconsistency is 
shown in the following: we see a 
crowd of foundrymen going on strike 
but they are persuaded by the fore- 
man to remain at work one day more. 
We know they are foundrymen be- 
cause in the opening scene they are 
at work in the foundry, but when they 
decide to work another day they send 
a note to the boss saying that they 
have decided to finish a day's work 
on the McCormick job, and where do 
you suppose we see them next? Doing 
structural iron work on a tall build- 
ing! The scene was good, but never, 
never, never! did foundrymen belong 
to, and work with, the structural iron 
workers' union, doing both jobs 
alternately. 

One of the easiest ways to fall into 
an error of this sort is the desire to 
explain what one man says to another. 
Many writers require one character 
to write a note to another and then 
hand it to the latter in person that 
the note may be thrown on the screen 
and read by the audience who are 
thus apprised of what goes on between 
the two men. Crude! A little in- 

24 



genuity can surely dope out a better 
way than that. So Point Three — Be 
consistent in all things ! Point Four — 
Be logical! This should be printed 
thus: BE LOGICAL! Nothing mars 
the smoothness of a photoplay more 
than an illogical action. Photophans 
are quick to note as serious, an error 
apparently trifling to the writer and 
it usually raises a laugh at the wrong 
time. If you were a young girl who 
owed your life to a man subsequently 
put in jail for a crime, and your sense 
of gratitude compelled you to steal 
the keys from your father who is the 
sheriff and to let the prisoner go free, 
would you carry the handcuffs home 
with you and put them and the keys 
under the couch cover for papa to sit 
on so that he might find them and 
accuse you? Wouldn't you throw the 
handcuffs away and return the keys 
to their proper place so that the 
prisoner might seem to have escaped 
alone? Of course! And yet, because 
the story required that the sheriff find 
out his daughter's share in the escape 
the author of this scenario could find 

25 



no better way than this illogical action, 
and it spoiled the story utterly. 

Before you submit your scenario 
you should go over every action care- 
fully and determine positively that 
there is nothing which is forced and 
strained and in consequence illogical. 
Logic is the smoothest form of thought 
and creates the least mental friction. 



20 



CHAPTER III 

What Not to Do 

DO not introduce absurdities (un- 
less you are writing a farce, and 
don't write a farce unless you're 
absolutely sure it's good) . Absurdities 
are never logical. For instance, do 
not create a situation wherein a char- 
acter is compelled to hold a match, 
a candle or a lantern, because such a 
light never photographs well and the 
result is absurd. It shows a player 
surrounded with light sufficiently 
bright for photographic purposes 
holding aloft a much lesser light by 
which he or she hopes to be able to 
see. Arrange your scenes to be either 
dark or light, but never try to show 
the light itself unless it is the light of 
a dark lantern which projects a light 
disc on the wall or hanging of a room 
otherwise totally dark and which can 
be shown with comparatively good 
results. 

In writing a comedy film do not at- 

27 



tempt to be funny. If you can put 
over stuff that sounds funny write it 
in story form and send it to the 
magazines. When a comedy sce- 
nario is submitted, the business of the 
actors must be explained fully to 
show just where the comedy comes 
in, but you need not write it humor- 
ously for the benefit of the scenario 
editor who is decidedly unappre- 
ciative of such an effort. It has been 
said very truly that the scenario 
writer writes in words and the sce- 
nario editor reads in pictures. Cul- 
tivate the art of thinking in pictures 
and you will have fewer scenarios in 
the rejected barrel. 

The best comedy scenes in picture- 
dom are serious business for the 
writer, editor, producer and actor, and 
scripts submitted should be seriously 
written in an earnest endeavor to 
make the reader see and not hear the 
humor. So much depends upon the 
artists in a comedy picture that a mere 
outline of the business is all that is 
needed. Do not make your comedy 
scenario, or any other for that matter, 
read like a correspondence school 

28 



lesson in acting. The actors under 
the producer's direction are usually 
quite capable of portraying the action 
and emotion realistically if the desired 
action and emotion is suggested with- 
out instructions from the author. If 
they were incapable they would not 
be holding down the floor in the 
various manufacturers' studios. Don't 
be verbose. It is a very easy matter 
for a writer fired with enthusiasm to 
overwrite. 

Revising is the hardest part of a 
writer's work. The first copy flows 
from the inspired pen like the pro- 
verbial water from a duck's back and 
under the influence of watching the 
story grow the writer finds incentive 
to continue, but oh! the drudgery of 
rewriting and revising. Inclination 
may writhe and squirm and plead to 
go away and leave the work undone, 
but Determination must grab Inclina- 
tion and club it into submission if the 
writer ever expects to flirt with the 
elusive Goddess of Success. Revision 
is imperative. All the big fellows in 
the literary world do it. Only by care- 
ful rewording and rewriting can any 

29 



production of this nature be flawless. 
A good way to do this is to read your 
scenario aloud to members of the 
family or to friends; better still is it 
to have some one read it to you that 
you may hear the words with another's 
intonation and vocal shades. 

The value of revision is well shown 
in the two following scenes which also 
explain clearly overwriting and un- 
derwriting. Scene I: Drawing room 
of wealthy woman's house. Every- 
thing is beautifully furnished in the 
most expensive manner. Palms and 
ferns abound. Up stage center are 
folding doors hung with curtains of 
exquisite taste. Fine silk damask 
settle down stage left; other furniture 
to match arranged around room taste- 
fully. Reception is in progress — ladies 
in reception gowns are strolling here 
and there with their escorts admiring 
the beauties of the room. The 
hostess, gowned in a white satin 
creation covered with dewdrop net 
and trimmed with pearls, sits lan- 
guidly toying with fan and talking 
with gentlemen in evening clothes. 
Another man enters up stage an- 

30 



nounced by butler who stands with 
arms akimbo as he makes announce- 
ment. Man approaches hostess and 
bowing low over her hand expresses 
his appreciation of his good fortune 
at having been able to accept her kind 
invitation, etc. 

The above is grossly overwritten. 
By rereading and revising the author 
finds that he has much that is abso- 
lutely useless and hinders rather than 
helps the delineation of the scene. 
Properly revised it should read about 
as follows: 

Scene I: Richly appointed drawing 
room decorated for reception. Re- 
ception in progress. Guests in groups 
or couples occupying time as producer 
desires in background. Hostess seated 
in foreground earnestly conversing 
with man. Butler enters, announces 
newcomer. Man enters — comes di- 
rectly to hostess, bows — is introduced 
to other man — turns and engages 
hostess in conversation. Apparently 
each greatty interested in other, etc. 

Here we have the actual action 
without the trimmings which the pro- 
ducer can be trusted to supply. 

31 



Avoid also writing too little. The 
scene described above would be diffi- 
cult to grasp if it were written : 

Scene I : Drawing room — Reception. 
Hostess and man earnestly talking. 
Another man enters and engages 
hostess in conversation. 

There is a happy medium in script 
writing for which the beginner must 
strive, and this can be gained only by 
painstaking rewritings. 

Make your stories timely and be 
guided by the wants of various manu- 
factures as to where to submit the 
manuscripts. It is scarcely worth 
while submitting a story in August 
based upon a rescue from the skating 
pond, and one would find scant con- 
sideration for a scene in a daisy field 
at a time of year when the scenario 
editor has to arise at 4 A. M. to 
put coal on the furnace to keep 
his feet from being frostbitten in 
bed. If you get a good hunch for 
a winter story in midsummer, write it. 
No one can blame you if you are built 
that way, but don't expect others to 
be enthusiastic about a toboganing 

32 



scene when the weather is so hot the 
ice man has to run from his wagon 
to the refrigerator to get there before 
the ten cents' worth melts. Save your 
script until the season suits. Studios 
do not have a store-room for scripts 
which must be kept for months before 
they can be produced. 

Furthermore, don't send Biblical 
stories to a manufacturer who makes 
a specialty of western stuff. Study 
the needs of the firms producing pic- 
tures and direct your scenarios ac- 
cordingly. On another page the class 
of story most sought for by the differ- 
ent studios is touched upon, and am- 
bitious writers cannot do better than 
to subscribe to The Moving Picture 
World or some other trade paper and 
carefully study the comments on the 
films as they appear week by week. 
This will serve a twofold purpose. 
One who reads its pages thoughtfully 
will soon grasp the nature of the 
stories wanted and is almost sure to 
find meat for a new story in the de- 
scriptions of the old. An old theme 
described ofttimes suggests an entirely 

33 



new idea which can well be built into 
a most acceptable scenario. 

Avoid consecutive scenes in the 
same set wherever possible. Arrange 
your scenes so the characters appear 
with different surroundings in each 
succeeding scene. This doesn't mean 
that you cannot use the same scene 
more 1 than once in a story, but that 
the same scene shall not appear again 
without one or more different scenes 
to divide it. Do not worry over the 
possibility of making too many scenes 
in a photoplay. On the stage the play 
is usually confined to two, three, or 
four acts and this is possible for the 
reason that the lines of the players 
describe the action which occurs be- 
tween acts and explains the lapse of 
time, change of scenery, etc. In 
motion pictures the action must all be 
self-explanatory and it is not an un- 
usual thing for a photoplay to have 
thirty or thirty-five different back- 
grounds or "sets." 

If a man is to go from a room in one 
house to a room in another, there 
should be a scene showing him enter- 
ing the second house, but it is un- 

34 



necessary to have him leaving the first 
because in the first room he can be 
made to catch up his coat and hat and 
exit. Obviously he is going out, and 
when one sees him on the street and 
entering the second house the entire 
thought is conveyed to the spectator. 
The question may arise, if his action of 
putting on his hat and coat suggests 
leaving the house, why his enter- 
ing another room and removing them 
doesn't mean the reverse. The answer 
is simple — because he may have 
simply gone into another room in his 
own house and the man in the theatre 
seat wonders, "Why, in thunder, did 
he put his hat and coat on to go along 
the hall or just from room to room." 
Seems farfetched, but it isn't. The 
spectator asks just such questions. 
There is an exception to the above, 
of course. If, for instance, you have 
"established" two houses in the mind 
of the onlooker — if you have shown 
John Jones in his room doing 
something which indicates that it is 
his room, such as entering, taking off 
his coat and putting on a smoking- 
jacket, and you have shown Jane 

35 



Smith reading a book or eating choco- 
lates or trying on a dress in her room, 
so that the spectator feels sure that 
the two rooms are in different houses 
and belong to very different persons, 
then and only then may the street 
scene be omitted, and John putting on 
his coat and hat in one scene and go- 
ing out of the picture, reappearing in 
the room which we know is Jane's, is 
sufficiently clear for anyone. Even 
under these circumstances, however, 
it is bad policy unless a little action 
precedes John's entrance, as other- 
wise the lapse of time which John 
consumes going from his house to 
Jane's is not clearly indicated. The 
meaning is clearly conveyed, how- 
ever, with the street scene in, and as 
it will be short and cost nothing for 
stage scenery the photoplay writer 
may well bear it in mind. 

While writing of scenes it may be 
well to caution the beginner against 
inserting scenes which mean nothing 
to the story. Many photoplay manu- 
scripts fail because the main thread 
of the story has not been closely ad- 
hered to, and scenes with almost no 

36 



bearing on the subject are introduced. 
Be sure every scene is necessary and 
relates to the theme. Recently a 
scenario passed through my hands 
which contained no less than four 
stories, all so comingled that none 
were understandable. This is quite a 
common fault and should be carefully 
avoided. Develop your scenario with 
as much care as you would if you 
were writing a play for the stage, and 
after it is all written try to locate 
places where the action is weak or the 
story strained so these faults may be 
corrected. At the same time watch 
carefully for unnecessary action and 
cut it all out, rewriting the whole play 
if necessary. The scenario editor and 
the producer haven't time to rewrite 
your stories, and your scripts will 
come back many, many times if the 
proper care in this particular is not 
exercised. 



37 



CHAPTER IV 

Photoplays that Won't be Accepted 

THERE is a popular prejudice 
against pictures dealing with 
suicide, burglary, murder, kid- 
napping, religious questions or in- 
dignities to the State, as also there is 
against scenes so tragic as to have a 
depressing affect upon the spectator. 
This prejudice has not always existed 
and has not always been respected by 
the film manufacturers, and because 
of this, there has been formed 
in New York, a National Board of 
Censors to watch for and condemn 
anything of an objectionable nature. 
The services of this board are gra- 
tuitous and they have no legal author- 
ity to reject a picture or compel its 
withdrawal from the market, but 
manufacturers submit all of their 
pictures to this board and abide by 
its decisions. It is obvious, then, that 
the manufacturer will not now pro- 
duce a picture which may cost him 

39 



several thousands of dollars if he has 
any reason to suppose that the Board 
of Censors will object to its exhibition. 
Therefore, photoplay manuscripts 
hinging on or dealing with the list 
above will usually meet with instant 
rejection. A crime which is unneces- 
sary is never tolerated. Sometimes 
a picture suggesting that a crime has 
been committed at some period prior 
to the story gets across, but even in 
using a crime idea in that way it must 
be of paramount importance to the 
unfolding of the plot else it will not 
be accepted. Save yourself trouble 
and expense and the manufacturer's 
time by sidestepping crime pictures. 

Select for your theme an idea which 
embodies good things. Avoid anything 
coarse or suggestive. Make your 
stories clean, wholesome, happy — a 
dainty love story, a romantic adven- 
ture, a deed gloriously accomplished, a 
lesson well learned, an act of charity 
repaid — anything of a dramatic nature 
which is as honest as daylight. Good 
deeds are just as dramatic as wicked 
deeds and clean comedy is far and 
away more humorous than coarseness. 

40 



Keep away from scenes of brutality, 
degeneracy, idiocy or anything which 
may bring a poignant pang of sorrow 
to some one of the millions of people 
who will read your story in the pic- 
tures unless the pang will be one of 
remorse for a bad deed done or a good 
deed left undone. In a word, help 
the film makers produce films which 
will help those who see them and 
make the whole world a little bit 
better for your work. 

One of the most foolish things to 
do is to crib an idea from some other 
motion picture, play or novel and, re- 
writing it, send it in as your own. The 
copyright laws prescribe a penalty of 
one hundred dollars for every exhibi- 
tion of a picture based upon a copy- 
righted story or play when the owner 
of the copyright has not granted per- 
mission to the film makers to use the 
story for motion picture purposes. 
Suppose someone reads a copyrighted 
story in an old magazine, sees the 
possibilities and rewrites it for a 
photoplay. Suppose the scenario 
editor lets it get by and the picture 
is produced at a cost of three or four 

41 



thousand dollars. Suppose the manu- 
facturer disposes of sixty positives and 
the sixty films are in use in sixty dif- 
ferent theatres every day for a week. 
Usually a film is shown five times a 
day. What is the result? At the end 
of a week the owner of the copyright 
finds the picture and bringing suit 
collects all the profits the film maker 
has made in disposing of the films and 
one hundred dollars for every exhibi- 
tion of every print in every theatre 
each day since the film was issued. 
The fines alone would amount to 
$210,000. 

Don't waste time in rewriting other 
people's brain children, for the sce- 
nario editor goblins will catch you 
sure as fate, and once you get a repu- 
tation for plagiarism not a film maker 
will dare to buy any manuscript from 
you for fear it is copyrighted. The 
admonition not to crib an idea from 
another's story does not mean, of 
course, that one cannot snatch a sug- 
gestion from some story, printed, 
played or photographed, and work up 
a new plot therefrom. New stories 
after all are but old ones revamped. 

42 



This process is entirely commendable, 
and many a good scenario has been 
based upon an idea overlooked by the 
author of the scenario in his own 
script. 

Let your theme be as original as 
possible, but make your construction 
of the theme unique. One scenario 
writer I know writes absolutely punk 
stuff except for the fact that there is 
always in his stories a new turn to an 
old idea — an unexpected little sugges- 
tion which puts his stories over. Out 
of ninety or a hundred scripts of his 
submitted to one manufacturer not 
more than twelve or fifteen have been 
returned. Always let the unexpected 
happen — that makes a picture inter- 
esting and piquant, and that is the 
thing required by film makers the 
world over. Another man who sub- 
mits scripts is so full of ideas he 
doesn't have time to work them up 
into story form and simply writes sug- 
gestions about three lines long around 
which a good story may be written. 

One of the most successful comedies 
was produced upon the suggestion of 
a young woman who entered an office 

43 



and said : "My name is Miss Jones and 
my address is such and such a place. 
Why not make a comedy picture of 
a woman in a hobble skirt? If the 
suggestion is worth anything send me 
a check." Hobble skirts were at this 
time torturing the eyes of mankind 
and the suggestion was accepted and 
a check for $5.00 sent to the girl. 
Mere suggestions if accepted seldom 
bring over five dollars to the suggestor 
because the suggestee has to write the 
story. If Miss Jones had worked out 
the story herself it would probably 
have paid her twenty-five or thirty 
dollars instead of five. 

Just a hint or two more: 

Keep your situations tense. 

Never let a scene sag in the middle 
like a sway-backed horse. 

Put backbone into your stories and 
keep it there. 

Work your story up to an unex- 
pected climax and then finish it. 

Be careful to avoid an anti-climax. 

44 



Sidestep scenes in bad taste or 
those which may hurt someone on 
account of race or religion. 

Never try to write down to the 
level you may presume motion pic- 
tures are on. The manufacturers want 
stories of a high order. Let your 
comedy situations be funny and not 
silly. 

Avoid absolute impossibilities and 
improbabilities. 

Keep always to the thread of your 
story and be sure there's a thread to 
keep to. <*T- 

Don't take hackneyed subjects*^ 

Don't attempt a masterpiece for 
your first effort — a bright little dra- 
matic comedy is a good thing to begin 
on. 

Don't strive for literary style in 
your scenario — it isn't appreciated, is 
unnecessary and it's not the thing 
purchased. 

Create as often as possible a new 
situation or a new location for your 
scenes — people tire of one kind of 
drawing room and one kind of gesture. 

45 



Always typewrite your manuscript 
and always enclose a self-addressed 
stamped envelope for its return — it 
may bring you a check instead. 

Always put your name and address 
plainly on each sheet of manuscript. 

Always keep a copy of a script you 
send away, the letter may get lost in 
the mail. 

Don't expect that your first effort 
will be accepted and don't be discour- 
aged if you get a number of scripts 
returned. 

Remember that there is more than 
one maker of films and that what is 
poison to one is meat to another. 

Don't look for a check the day after 
you submit the scenario. 

Don't send to one manufacturer a 
script returned from another manu- 
facturer which shows evidences of 
having been handled before and re- 
fused. Better rewrite it than thus 
show its refusal by another scenario 
editor. 

46 



CHAPTER V 

A Model Scenario 

THE following scenario shows bet- 
ter than a volume, just how your 
script should be constructed and 
we will take up the various whys and 
wherefores as the script proceeds. 

THE MISPLACED PETTICOAT 

Place, Any Resort Hotel — Time, Present 

CAST 

Whiffles — Stingy man away on vacation 
without wife. 

Mrs. Forts — Wife of busy lawyer also 
away on vacation. 

Mrs. Whiffles — Jealously suspicious. 

Mr. Forts — Nervous and excitable. 

Maid— At Hotel. 

Porter — At Hotel. 

Hotel Guests, Passersby, etc., etc. 

Synopsis 

Whiffles away on vacation fails to 
tip porter on leaving, latter sees 

47 



chambermaid hurrying with a for- 
gotten petticoat after Mrs. Forts, who 
is also leaving. Porter takes garment 
and places same in Whiffles' suitcase. 
Upon arriving home, Mrs. Whiffles 
finds petticoat and thinking she has 
ground for divorce goes to consult 
lawyer, taking garment along as evi- 
dence. Lawyer proves to be Mr. 
Forts, who recognizes wife's petticoat. 
He swears vengeance upon both Mr. 
Whiffles and Mrs. Forts and proceeds 
to go after it, finally winding up with 
all characters at summer resort, when 
everything is satisfactorily explained. 

Action 

Scene I — Up Stairs Hotel Corridor 

Showing two or more room doors. 
(Two in f oreground called A and B for 
convenience of writer and producer.) 
Whiffles enters corridor from Door A 
closely followed by porter carrying 
suit case. Porter looks angry — 
Whiffles annoyed and shaking head 
vigorously. Porter holds out hand for 
tip — Whiffles refuses vehemently. 

48 



Mrs. Forts enters corridor from Door 
B. Whiffles and Mrs. Forts look at 
each other with blank stare showing 
no signs of recognition. Mrs. Forts 
followed by maid carrying suit case. 
Maid all smiles — Mrs. F. tips maid 
liberally — takes case — goes down 
stairway. Maid courtesies and retires 
through Door B. Whiffles stalks down 
stairway beckoning porter to follow 
with grip. Porter prepares to obey. 
Maid enters hastily from Door B car- 
rying white petticoat. Porter stops 
her and Maid indicates petticoat be- 
longs to Mrs. Forts, shows tip and 
starts to run after Mrs. Forts — Porter 
stops her — explains that Whiffles has 
given no tip — takes petticoat from 
maid and puts into Whiffles' suit case. 
Maid convulsed with laughter exits 
through Door B and Porter grabs case 
and exits down stairway. 

Here by the simple expedient of in- 
troducing numbered doors, a porter, 
a maid and two people with grips, the 
hotel atmosphere is immediately 
shown. That the two people are 
strangers and very different in char- 

49 



acter is instantly recognized and thus 
from the first moment, their relation- 
ship to each other in the story is 
established. By placing the petticoat 
in Whiffles 9 grip we know he is a 
married man else the porter would 
have had no revenge. 

Scene II — Railway Station Platform 

Enter Mrs. Forts carrying case — a 
moment later enter Whiffles carrying 
case. Train pulls in. Mrs. Forts and 
Whiffles climb aboard. Train pulls 
out and disappears. 

There is no need to introduce a 
street scene between I and II because 
in I we see them about to leave and in 
II we see them at the place we expect 
them to go to — the railway. 

Scene III — Second Railway Station 
Platform 

Train pulls in, Mrs. Whiffles on 
platform waiting for husband. Mrs. 
Forts alights first closely followed by 
Whiffles. Mrs. Whiffles eyes Mrs. 
Forts with suspicion. Grabs Mr. 

50 



Whiffles — Pecks him with kiss — All 
exit. 

This scene is necessary to "get them 
off the train" and serves to indicate 
that though unknown to each other 
they live in the same town. Also we 
learn here that Mrs. Whiffles is 
jealous. 

Scene IV — Street and Exterior 
Whiffles' House 

Mr. and Mrs. Whiffles appear and 
enter house. 

Scene IV is introduced merely to 
separate III and V, so that the char- 
acters do not seem to jump from one 
scene to another. 

Scene V — Interior of Whiffles' 
House 

Mr. and Mrs. Whiffles enter. Whif- 
fles puts suit case on table and sits 
down. Mrs. Whiffles goes to suit case 
to remove contents. Opens case- 
takes out first thing Mrs. Fort's petti- 
coat. Looks astonished, then angry, 

51 



shows garment accusingly to Whiffles. 
Whiffles dumbfounded. Can't explain. 
Mrs. Whiffles goes into rage — grabs 
hat, violently pushes Whiffles back 
into chair and exits through door. 
Whiffles looks henpecked. 

Scene VI. — Street 

Mrs. Whiffles rushing along wildly 
waving petticoat. Panoramic ending in 

Scene VII — Building Entrance 
Mrs. Whiffles hurries into building. 

This scene is of course vital to the 
story. We are now interested in Mr. 
and Mrs. Whiffles, and not Mr. and 
Mrs. Forts. How Mrs. Forts reached 
home or when or where is unneces- 
sary and is consequently left out. The 
interest has been transferred now to 
Mrs. Whiffles, although Mrs. Forts has 
been on the screen long enough for us 
to retain a subconscious interest in 
her. Because Mrs. Whiffles takes her 
hat she is obviously going out, con- 
sequently scene VI and VII simply 

52 



show the end of her quest — an office 
building entrance. 

Scene VIII — Hallway and Door, Lat- 
ter Marked M. D. Forts & Co., Lawyers 

Mrs. Whiffles stops at door, reads 
name and enters. 

The sign on the door enlightens any- 
one who has been in doubt as to where 
Mrs. Whiffles was going. 

Scene IX — Mr. Forts' Office with 
Mr. Forts at Desk 

Mrs. Whiffles bows as does Mr. 
Forts. Latter motions Mrs. Whiffles 
to be seated. Mrs. Whiffles talks 
volubly, wildly waving petticoat and 
gesticulating toward it. Mr. Forts 
looks sad and shakes head. Holds out 
hand for petticoat. Receives it — 
examines it — first casually — then in- 
tently — finally with wild eyed recogni- 
tion. Looks at waist band — sees name 
"Martha Forts" (foreground of name) . 
Jumps up and raves. Mrs. Whiffles 
jumps up and two race up and down 

53 



office. Mr. Forts explaining that the 
petticoat belongs to his wife. Mrs. 
Whiffles begins to weep. Mr. Forts 
comforts her. Mrs. Whiffles' head 
falls on his shoulder. Door opens 
silently. Neither see it — Mrs. Forts 
enters — sees tableau — speaks sharply. 
Both others start guiltily. Mrs. Forts 
upbraids husband. Mr. Forts re- 
taliates waving petticoat under her 
eyes. Mrs. Whiffles joins the melee. 
Mrs. Forts hurriedly escapes — fol- 
lowed by Mr. Forts and Mrs. Whiffles 
still talking excitedly. 

In this scene everyone is already 
into the secret and the impression is 
that Mrs. Whiffles is merely going to 
get a divorce. Hence the sudden 
realization that the lawyer's wife is 
the owner of the petticoat strikes the 
audience as a distinct surprise and 
the result is a spontaneous laugh. 
Heretofore no one knows the name of 
the woman at the hotel, but when the 
lawyer points to his name on the door 
and the name in indelible ink on the 
petticoat, it all becomes clear in an 
instant. The entrance of Mrs. Forts 

54 



when Mrs. Whiffles has her head on 
Mr. Forts 9 shoulder develops another 
phase of the plot which the spectators 
haven't anticipated and is therefore 
more keenly enjoyed by them. 

Scene X — Exterior Mr. Forts' House 
Mrs. Forts enters. 

Scene XI — Mrs. Forts' Room 

Enter Mrs. Forts, packs up her 
things — writes note: 

To my Husband. 

Dear Sir: I have returned to the 
hotel. When you have repented you 
may come to me. 

Your Wife. 

Lays note on table, puts on hat and 
exits from room. 

Interest now centering in Mrs. Forts, 
it is necessary for the next two or three 
scenes to follow her movements to get 
her placed where she may be left for 
the moment as the interest reverts to 
Mrs. Whiffles, the lawyer and Whif- 

55 



fles. By inserting a note to her hus- 
band we know what she is going to do, 
which obviates the necessity of show- 
ing it in scenes. 

Scene XII — Exterior Mr. Whiffles' 
House 

Mr. Forts and Mrs. Whiffles appear 
still angry. Mr. Forts now carries 
revolver which he brandishes wildly 
— approach steps. 

Mrs. Forts out of the way we indi- 
cate what the others have been doing 
(going to Mr. Whiffles' house) by 
showing them in the street before the 
house. 

In Scene XII we have brought the 
spectator's interest back to Whiffles 
and so we must show him. 

Scene XIII — Interior Mr. Whiffles' 
House 

Whiffles sitting forlornly on chair 
near window. Hears commotion out- 
side, looks out of window, sees Forts 
with revolver, shows fear, gathers up 

56 



few belongings and exits by rear 
window just as Mrs. Whiffles and 
Forts enter. They quickly turn and 
exit through door they entered. 

Scene XIII can be made exceedingly 
funny. Whiffles is sad about his mis- 
fortune but he doesn't expect to be 
assassinated. However, when he sees 
the lawyer with the revolver, the 
whole situation flashes across him in 
one illuminating moment. The spec- 
tators get his idea at the moment he 
does and his difficulty is sure to excite 
their risibility. 

Scene XIV— (Same as XII) 

Mr. Whiffles is jumping fence as 
Mrs. Whiffles and Mr. Forts dash out 
of house in pursuit. 

Scene XV — Railroad Station 

Mr. Whiffles rushes up, train pulls 
in, Whiffles gets on, train pulls out. 
Mrs. Whiffles and Forts arrive just too 
late. 

57 



Scene XVI — Railroad Station 

Train arrives — Mr. Whiffles alights 
and walks out of picture. Mrs. Forts 
also alights and walks same direction 
as Whiffles. 

Here it is unnecessary to show Mrs. 
Forts catching train, as we already 
know she is going to the hotel and we 
see her alight from the train in Scene 
XVI. 

Scene XVII — Entrance Lobby Hotel 

Whiffles arrives and gives bag to 
porter after signing register. Mrs. 
Forts arrives and gives bag to porter. 
Both exit to elevator followed by 
porter. 

Scene XVII is just a connecting 
scene to avoid a bad mental jump. 

Scene XVII— (Same as I) 

Whiffles enters his old room. As 
Mrs. Forts is about to enter her room, 
Maid approaches. Sees Mrs. Forts, 

58 



thinks about petticoat. Calls Mrs. 
Forts aside and tells her the story of 
the porter's trick. Mrs. Forts grateful, 
gives maid tip. Maid exits. Mrs. 
Forts turns toward room as Mr. Forts 
and Mrs. Whiffles approach — both 
very excited. Mrs. Forts turns, sees 
couple — shows delight. Whiffles at 
this moment appears. Mr. Forts grabs 
him. Whiffles tries to explain — Mrs. 
Forts does so for him. Mr. Forts 
doesn't believe it. Porter enters. 
Whiffles grabs porter — asks for the 
truth — porter denies everything indi- 
cating to Whiffles aside that he wants 
money. Whiffles gives liberal tip — 
asks porter again and again — porter 
denies. By-play kept up until porter 
has all of Whiffles' money and then 
still denies. Enter maid — sees trouble 
for woman who has been liberal — 
tells truth — porter attempts to escape 
— is caught and simultaneously is 
kicked dow r n stairs by Whiffles and 
Forts. All embrace and forgive. 

CURTAIN 

In this scene the arrival of Mr. 
Forts and Mrs. Whiffles is a surprise, 

59 



because we have seen them miss the 
train, but instantly we realize that they 
have taken a second train and arrived 
a little later. 

The sight of the porter separating 
the miserly Whiffles from all his 
money and then denying everything 
is very funny and with good char- 
acterization can be made a scream. 

Here we have a sudden and com- 
plete explantion — the story is finished, 
so the end of the film is reached at 
once. 

A close study of the above will un- 
doubtedly be of inestimable value to 
all those who desire to enter this 
lucrative field of photoplay writing. 
Careful avoidance of anything useless 
and a close adherence to the meat of 
the plot will surely result in an ac- 
ceptable scenario, provided, of course, 
the original idea is good. No amount 
of thought or construction can ever 
make a good idea out of a bad one. 
So after all, the chief factor in all of 
this, is to get a good idea to start with. 

The prices for scenarios vary 

60 



greatly. Sometimes people send in 
merely a suggestion of three or four 
sentences, around which a photoplay 
can be written. Manufacturers usually 
pay $2.00 or $3.00 for such ideas, while 
a scenario well planned and compre- 
hensively written around the same 
thought, might have netted them as 
much as $50.00. It is a good plan for 
scenario writers to place upon their 
photoplays the amount they expect to 
receive for it, as it is the duty of every 
scenario editor to buy scripts as 
cheaply as possible, and the checks in 
payment are so worded that the ac- 
ceptance of the check constitutes a 
receipt in full for the story named on 
the voucher. If the price asked is too 
high and the story is good, the manu- 
facturer will undoubtedly communi- 
cate with the writer and ask if he will 
accept less. Do not make your price 
too high. Manufacturers seldom pay 
more than $50.00, and the average 
price is $25.00; but. a scenario sub- 
mitted with no price stated is apt to 
bring the writer a check for $10.00, 
consequently, a beginner should ask 
about $20.00 or $30.00, depending 

61 



upon his own idea of the quality of 
the story. Be fair in your judgment 
of your own work and do not ask ex- 
orbitant prices, as an exorbitant price 
on a poor story will certainly disgust 
the scenario editor and your scenario 
w T ill be returned. 



02 



CHAPTER VI 

Where to Sell 

THE market for photoplays is large 
and growing. The demand for 
moving picture plots is increas- 
ing all the time and the field is prac- 
tically undeveloped. Moving pictures 
are now made showing how a plant 
growls. You can actually see a blade 
of grass growing! This is very won- 
derful and yet simple when you know 
how it's done. An exposure is made 
just as the plant noses its way through 
the ground and a few hours later an- 
other exposure is made and so on 
until the blade is so old that it withers 
up and is ready to blow away. By 
projecting the pictures at the regular 
rate of sixteen a second you can have 
in a few minutes the life history 
of a blade of grass or a stalk of 
rice unrolled before you. Pictures 
are made of wild birds in the most 
inaccessible places — on mountain 
sides and in cane thickets. To make 

63 



a single film of this wild nature has 
meant the expenditure of thousands 
of dollars. A moving picture operator 
has even been lowered into the pit of 
Vesuvius and taken films of the fear- 
ful crater. Soon moving pictures will 
be part of every school and already 
large machinery is being sold by mo- 
tion pictures. The salesman for a 
dredge or derrick company — for a ma- 
chine that can not very well be moved 
about on account of its size and weight 
— comes into the office of a probable 
purchaser, unpacks an outfit that 
looks like a thick suitcase, draws down 
the blinds until the room is darkened, 
attaches to the electric light wire and 
throws pictures of the derrick that he 
is selling on the wall, so that the in- 
terested man will not have to leave 
his office to get a complete under- 
standing of the machine. 

It is a good idea to read The Mov- 
ing Picture World or The New York 
Sunday Telegraph occasionally, for 
they will give the names of all the new 
concerns in their news about moving 
pictures. Of course they will not tell 
what these concerns want, but you can 

64 



try them out until you find the kind 
of script that goes with them. Each 
month in The Magazine Maker, 241 
Fourth Avenue, New York, will be 
found the wants of the new companies, 
so that it will not be much trouble for 
you to keep up to the minute on the 
needs of the producing concerns. 

Here are the companies that buy 
and pay for photoplays : 

The Independent Moving Picture 
Company, 515 West 56th Street, New 
York. 

This company is know r n as the Imp 
on account of its initials. They make 
a specialty of American scenes, al- 
though once in a while they send a 
troupe into Mexico. They do not 
care for Western and Indian pictures. 
They like strong dramas. They do 
not want farces or pictures where the 
worn out chase is used and do not go 
in for trick films. They do not pur- 
chase material made from copyrighted 
books. The return address should be 
written plainly and the manuscript 
must not be rolled. 

65 



The Pacific Motion Picture Com- 
pany, Temple Street, Los Angeles, 
California. 

This concern aims to get unique 
plots and situations. They pay for an 
accepted contribution on the royalty 
basis. Their promise is to be very 
liberal. 

The Champion Film Manufacturing 
Company, Ii5 West b5th Street, New 
York. 

Historical and military photoplays 
always appeal to this company. They 
require that the incidents be correct 
in every particular. They also use 
good western plots. They demand 
that all their pictures have a novel 
plot and have a good climax. The 
studio and factory of this concern are 
at Coytesville, New Jersey, but photo- 
plays may be sent to the New York 
office. 

Thomas A. Edison, Inc., 2826 Deca- 
tur Avenue, Bedford Park, New York 
City. 

66 



This concern asks that if the plot be 
not original with the author that he 
tell exactly how he came by it. This 
concern is only part of the Edison 
companies, as the electrical part is at 
Orange, New Jersey. They go in for 
the very best. 

The Vitagraph Company of Amer- 
ica, East 15th Street and Locust 
Avenue, Brooklyn, New York. 

They have a rule that all manu- 
scripts must be typewritten. They 
use a wide variety of material — come- 
dies, romances, and stories of tragedy 
and melodrama. If they don't like 
the manuscript they may send it back 
the day they receive it; each day that 
they hold it increases the chance of 
acceptance. 

American Film Manufacturing Com- 
pany, Ashland Block, Chicago, III. 

They are strong on the American 
cowboy. Even though it is a western 
scene they are not very likely to use 
it unless it is an out and out cowboy 

67 



picture. They have a big equipment 
of horses and cow-punchers and like 
to keep them busy. Just recently have 
they taken up home scenes dealing 
with society or having a touch of 
drama in them. But still they are 
specialists in cowboy films. 



& 



The Kalem Company, 235 West 23rd 
Street, New York. 

It uses a few western plays. It also 
favors historic photoplays and has a 
relish for comedies. 

Pathe Freres, 1 Congress Street, 
Jersey City Heights, New Jersey. 

They like comedies and want only 
scripts with American setting for the 
reason that they have a large produc- 
ing company in Paris and in several* 
other countries. 

The Eclair Film Company, Linwood 
Avenue, Fort Lee, New Jersey. 

68 



They go in for quick action come- 
dies. Also they like strong dramas 
with historical incidents. 



& 



The So lax Company, Congress 
Avenue, Flushing, New York. 

They want photoplays on business 
themes. Once in a while they use 
a mystery story. Their specialty is 
spectacular melodrama. 

The Lubin Manufacturing Company, 
20th and Indiana Avenue, Philadel- 
phia, Pa. 

They are in the market for comedies 
and dramas with now and then a 
western play. They like unique plots 
and situations. 

RelianceTilms, 5W West 21st Street, 
New York. 

These films are made by the Carlton 
Motion Picture Laboratories. They 
like intense dramas. They pay well 

69 



for their plots, but they set a high 
standard. 

G. Melies, 20b East 38th Street, New 
York. 

This is the headquarters of the con- 
cern, but they want their scenarios 
sent to Santa Paula, California. Their 
producing company is in California 
and for that reason they want the 
scenarios sent to Santa Paula. They 
want plots that can be enacted in 
California with such settings as can be 
found in that state. They do not want 
military scenes or anything of a spec- 
tacular order. They do not want plays 
that call for children. They like to 
have riders and horses in their plays. 

The Gaumont Company, Congress 
Avenue, Flushing, New York. 

This is only the American office of 
this company with headquarters in 
Paris. They are not manufacturing 
films in this country just now, but hope 
to a little later. 

70 



R. Prieur, 10 East 15th Street, New 
York. 

This is the concern that puts out the 
Lux Films. They are only importers 
and are not at the present time in the 
market for photoplays. 

George Kleine, 166 North State 
Street, Chicago, III. 

Some writers think that he is in the 
market for scenarios, but he is not, 
as he is only an importer of films. He 
imports Cin-es and the Urban-Eclipse 
films. 

The Majestic Motion Picture Com- 
pany, lk5 West i5th Street, New York. 

They do not want Western or Indian 
stories. Their field is rather a broad 
one and are willing to consider a wide 
variety of manuscripts. 



£ 



Essanay Film Manufacturing Com- 
pany, 1315 Argyle Street, Chicago, III. 

71 



This company gets its name from 
the initials of its president and secre- 
tary — S. and A. Their business office 
is in the First National Bank Building, 
Chicago, but their studio is on Argyle 
Street. They want plays that can be 
acted by their Chicago company and 
prefer "interiors" — that is, sets that 
are not out in the open. 

Crystal Film Company, Wendover 
and Park Avenue, New York City. 

They go in for a wide variety of 
material and are courteous in their 
treatment. 

The Seneca Feature Film Company, 
Nicholas Building, Toledo, Ohio. 

This concern is not in the manu- 
facturing business. They handle the 
rights for different films for Ohio and 
Michigan. 

The Biograph Company, 11 East 
Ikth Street, New York. 

72 



They like scenarios which make you 
think; scenarios that show up the 
differences between the rich and the 
poor. This is a big company and 
capable of handling a wide variety of 
films. Scenarios for several months 
to come should be sent to the western 
office of the company, Georgia Street, 
Los Angeles, California. 



s 



The Thanhouser Company, New 
Rochelle, New York. 



<& 



Rex Motion Picture Company, 573 
Eleventh Avenue, New York. 



<£ 



Comet Film Company, 3H East 
32nd Street, New York. 



& 



Powers Motion Picture Company, 
k22 West 216th Street, New York. 

73 



The Selig Polyscope Company, East 
Randolph Street, Chicago, III. 

They are in the market for all kinds 
of scenarios, pp comedy, drama, West- 
ern and so on. They have a specialty, 
however, of big effects — scenes with 
lots of people in them. They have 
studios in Los Angeles and in Denver, 
so that a writer can keep in mind that 
they can also put on a photoplay that 
can be acted in either of these places. 



The Nestor Film Company, Bayonne, 
New Jersey. 

They use about twice as many West- 
ern films as they do dramas. They 
have a company in California and like 
plots with Western flavor. Western 
scenarios should go to Hollywood, 
Cal. 



<£ 



St. Louis Motion Picture Company, 
25th and Montgomery Street, St. Louis, 
Mo. 

74 



New York Motion Picture Company, 
251 West 19th Street, New York. 

Victor Film Manufacturing Com- 
pany (Giles R. Warren, Editor), 573 
11th Avenue, New York City. 

This company has been formed to 
present photoplays in which Miss 
Florence Lawrence will be the star. 
Both comedies and drama will be 
done, but the stories must be un- 
usually good. 

Great Northern Film Company, 42 
West Uth Street, New York. 

Century Film Company, Fuller 
Building, Springfield, Mass. 



Penn Feature Film Company, Ca- 
sino Theatre, Easton, Pa. 

Superior Film Company, 32 Union 
Square, New York. 

75 



ENGLISH COMPANIES 

Hepworth Manufacturing Company, 
2 Denman Street, Picadilly Circus, 
London, W., England. 



& 



Cricks & Martin, 101 Wardour Street, 
London, W., England. 

Jury's Imperial Pictures, 7a Upper 
Street, St. Martin's Lane, London, 
W. C, England. 

Monopole Film Company, Cine 
House, Greek Street, London, W., 
England. 

First, get an idea; second, study 
your idea until you have a plot; third, 
study the plot until you have a photo- 
play; fourth, write it roughly, dividing 
it into scenes; sixth, revise it; sev- 
enth, write it more carefully, cutting 
out in one place and adding in an- 

76 



other; eighth, revise it; ninth, revise 
it; tenth, revise it; eleventh, typewrite 
it on one side of the paper only, en- 
close it with a self-addressed stamped 
envelope for reply and mail. Never 
send a bunch of scenarios at once. 
Send one at a time. The field is big 
and growing. 



Note : 

The Independents, consisting of the 
Champion, Imp, Solax, Reliance, Rex, 
and other film manufacturing com- 
panies, are about to organize them- 
selves into one company and most of 
the scenarios will then be purchased 
through one office. This will be 
known as the Universal Film Manu- 
facturing Company and their office 
will be at 1 Union Square, New York 



City. 



77 



Always Remember — 

To get a good idea to work on. 

To tell your story in as few words 
as possible. 

To notice what company has made 
the film when you go to a picture show. 

That what one company may turn 
down even without a personal letter 
another concern may accept and fea- 
ture as a star play. 

That a photoplay may be written in 
ten minutes, but that the idea is worth 
thinking over for a week. 



78 



HOW 

TO 

KEEP 

UP 

TO 

DATE 

Writers of moving picture plays can 
get the names and addresses of all new 
picture companies in THE MAGA- 
ZINE MAKER which is a magazine 
for writers. It will tell you each month 
fust what the new companies will buy 
and all changes in the policy of the old 
concerns. With Mr. Hoagland's book 
and THE MAGAZINE MAKER 
to give you the latest news you are 
equipped from beginning to end to write 
photoplays. Single copies arc 15 cents 
and the yearly subscription is one dollar. 



The Magazine Maker Publishing Co. 

241 FOURTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY 



DON'T 

INSULT 
AN 

EDITOR 




Every time you send a story to a 
magazine for which it is not suited 
you insult the editor. It shows you 
have not studied his magazine and that 
you are an amateur. Our new book 

WHERE TO SELL 

tells the needs of every magazine in 
the U. S. or Canada. You can find 
what publication your story or article 
is suited for at a glance. Price, 25 c. 



The Magazine Maker Publishing Co. 

241 FOURTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY 



C HU01 



JUL 2 1912 



r 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Oct. 2007 

PreservationTechnologies 

A WORLD LEACTER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 

111 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 1 6066 
(724)779-2111 






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